The beginning, the middle, the end.......

   Most of us probably didn't realize it... July 2^nd at 12:00 PM, noon. At that point in time and space, as in outer space I assume, we had completed the first half of the journey through 2014 and were about to embark on the second half. It was, according to the experts and those who follow some of the more mundane things  in life, the exact middle of the year. Exact? I knew something was up because as I prepared my lunch that day, I could just sense something was different, but I couldn't put my finger on it. Now I know! It was the middle of the year... a special day!

   Many of the things that happen to us in life have a beginning, a middle and an end and often, when we are at the middle, or halfway mark, it can be a comforting to know, or maybe not.

   Take, for example, a trip to the dentist. At some point, after what seems like hours with the dentist having his or her hands inside your mouth, he or she is likely to say...”I'm about halfway done, just a few more minutes.”

   Or perhaps you are in the middle of a well deserved vacation. The anticipation and expectations in the beginning were exciting, but you reach the mid point of your trip knowing that before long it will come to an end and your happiness and excitement is quickly replaced by thoughts of returning home, going back to work or even worse, realizing that it will be another year before you can get away from your crazy boss again.

   I like music but I am not a big fan of the opera. I have all the respect in the world for those who are able to sing and perform at that level, but it would not be my first choice for entertainment, although if invited, I would probably attend. Nothing wrong with a bit of culture I guess.While I have only been to the opera on one or two occasions, it was nice to know there was a beginning to the show, a middle and an end. The intermission served as the reminder the performance might be at its mid-point and would soon be over.

   As I began to put some thoughts together for the post this week, I suddenly realized that we actually learn about the beginning, the middle and the end in school. School for most usually begins in the Fall. The middle of the year, halfway, is sometime in January, although schools generally celebrate the 100^th day, and it ends sometime  later in the Spring,

   But the formal teaching of beginning, middle or halfway and end is usually taught in conjunction with writing and story telling and is called sequencing. I have Mrs. Graham, an elementary school teacher to thank for learning about sequencing.... and for hoping  the school year would end as quickly as possible. “Remember,” she would say, “There is an opening or beginning paragraph to a story, a middle paragraph or the  halfway point and an ending. I learned quickly that October was not halfway through the school year.

   Even in math class we learned about sequencing. Those never ending word problems were designed to help us with sequencing, problem solving in a logical and orderly way. Who among us didn't like those word problems? If a train is traveling 50 mph in one direction and a second one travels in the opposite direction at 70 mph, who gets home first? My answer.... "It depends upon where you live? Duh!!!" I think that may have gotten me a detention and ten more word problems for homework.

   But as I watch others  around me similar in age and watch my mother, who will be 94 on her next birthday in September, I may have discovered that life, and how we live it, is all about a beginning, a middle and an end. A profound conclusion, I know. But when it comes to living a rich and full life, we may not want to know when we have reached the middle, our own, personal July 2nd.

   Each day begins at the beginning, followed by a middle of the day (and perhaps a nap) and concludes at the end of the day, with the beginning, middle and end being unique and different for each of us.

   And like a good book with  a story line that keeps the reader engaged, interested and motivated to finish the chapter and move on to the next, each person has his or her own story to tell too. And what  makes a book exciting  and interesting also makes  life exciting and interesting, with the twists and turns and unexpected plots along the way, you know, the things we didn't see coming.

   One of the advantages of getting older is that it provides an opportunity for 'perspective', a chance to look back at 'the very beginning', consider the events and decisions in the middle and then form conclusions about how we got to where we are. How often have you heard someone say...”If only I had done things a bit differently.” But, in reality, would it have really made a difference?

   For the most part, I like knowing when I have reached the 'middle', whether it be at a really bad movie, standing in line to get into the men's room at the ball park or 200 miles into a 400 mile trip in the car. What I don't want to know, however,  is the day or date of the halfway point of my life. I'm  OK with  not knowing that!

   And July 2^nd.  There are some people who must watch those dates very closely, because......later that same day I saw a delivery truck parked by the loading dock at a local store, unloading some of this year's Christmas items, soon to be placed on the store's shelves. Is it that time already and... OMG.....are those Christmas carols I hear playing in the background? 

Due to increased call volume, your wait time is approximately...

    "Due to increased call volume, your wait time is approximately...90 minutes!” Yikes, 90 minutes. That was the message I recently received in an attempted telephone call to the Office of Retirement and Pensions in  New Jersey. I'll bet it didn't take that long to place the call to 'authorize' the traffic jam that occurred at the George Washington Bridge a few months ago.

   Several weeks ago, I needed to contact the New Jersey Office of Pensions and Retirement with a question about my mother's account, a seemly very simple question. The 90 minute wait time was the message at the first call. 
   Several days later I attempted to call again. This time, the message was a bit more encouraging, only an estimated wait time of approximately 30 minutes. I could do thirty minutes. 
   First, the call was a simple question  and I needed just a simple answer. Second...what was a mere 30 minutes out of my day. I could spare 30 minutes. I was only going to cut the grass. But I didn't want to tell that to the person on the other end of the line. He or she may have wanted to do the same.

   I put the phone on speaker and went about some other activities as I waited. The music was terrible, but the public service announcement every once and a while were even worse.

   I was keeping track of the time and at about 28 minutes into the call the voice of a service agent said....”How may I help you?”

   I explained who I was and the information I was hoping they could provide for me and if not, who I might be able to speak with. “Please hold a moment,” was the response, but with the push of a button the call became disconnected. 
   “You have got to be kidding me!!!” A 30 minute wait only to be disconnected. I could have gone outside to cut the grass. I decided not to call back for fear of what I might say or how long I would have to wait to say it.

   A day later I placed the call again. It was early in the day and the 'wait time' was only an estimated 15 minutes. This time the service representative spoke with somewhat of an accent ( must have been a Southern  Jersey accent) and it was difficult for me to understand, coming from northern New England and all. 
   I again explained the purpose of my call and was placed on 'hold'... and yes, the call became disconnected for a second time. By now, you may be able to imagine my frustration. Did they know I was calling from out of state, from away? Were they told to hang up on people who call  from another state?

   What to do now? I didn't think a call to the Governor was going to help. He was probably out on his "power walk" or tied up in a traffic jam on the bridge anyhow. I was 'kinda' stuck.

   I decided to call the health insurance company directly and avoid the state retirement office, knowing that I was  probably going to be referred back to the retirement office at some point. But it was worth the try. The service agent at the insurance company was somewhat helpful but told me that I really needed to speak with someone at the NJSHBP office. She gave me a special phone number to call and wished me luck. (Was that a laugh I heard as she hung up the phone?)

   I poured myself a fresh glass of ice tea, sat down in a comfortable chair and dialed the number she had given me. “Due to a temporary computer system failure we are not able to complete your call at this time. Please try again later.” Welcome to New Jersey! (To my family and friends who live in New Jersey, I don't mean to sound critical, but.... A quick reminder, I used to live Jersey too.)

   My last attempt to get the information I was seeking was a brief note, tucked inside the monthly bill payment along with the check, asking that someone 'please' call me, preferably a supervisor . To date, I have not received a call, but I did notice the check was cashed. Of course it was!

   I would like to say this has been a learning experience. Unfortunately the only thing it has done is to reinforce my belief that good customer service may be a thing of the past, automation and technology still has its faults and there are some things that just may be too big and do fail and while my experience has been with the NJSHBP, I suspect this can happen almost anywhere, in any state with any government agency and we really have no one to blame except ourselves because we allow it to continue. Perhaps our expectations of good service from our government agencies have become too high or the demands too numerous, even for the answers to  simple questions.

   But on a serious note, all was not lost. I did learn a new phrase to use when those election candidate calls start coming in from now until election day in November. “Due to an increase in the volume of calls from your opponents, your anticipated wait time to speak with me is approximately 90 minutes. Please sit back and enjoy the music."

Is it bigger than a bread box?

   The electric power had been out for hours. No radio or television. It was getting dark and there was nothing to do. I have an idea! Let's play 20 Questions.

   For those of us with a bit of age under our belts, the question of “being bigger than a bread box” may bring back a memory or two.   Long before computers, Game Boys and other electronic devices kids use today, many of the games we played often required nothing more than a bit of creativity and imagination. One of those games was 20 Questions and its popularity peaked in the late 1940's and early 1950's along with a weekly quiz program on the radio, although I admit I do not remember the radio show. (I do remember a version of this game show on the television though.)

   The game could be played in the living room or while traveling in the car and was quite simple. If my memory serves me correctly, one person was chosen to answer the questions. That person would choose an object, perhaps in the room where everyone was sitting, but not reveal what it was to the others. Each would take turns asking questions, which, in its early years could only be answered with a 'yes' or 'no.' To add a bit of a challenge, 'maybe' soon became an acceptable answer too.

   If a 'questioner' guessed the correct answer, that person was declared the winner and became the 'answerer'. If no one guessed correctly after 20 questions, those playing were 'stumped' and the 'answerer' was declared the winner and would continue for another round. (Sounds a bit like one of those college drinking game, don't you think?)

   Lying was not allowed and in today's world, that might eliminate a number of people from participating in the game, those folks needing to find their own games to play for entertainment.

   One of the keys to a successful game was the careful selection of questions. The person skilled in asking the 'right ' questions had a distinct advantage over others and I suspect many of those folks with that skill moved on to become great problem solvers in the world, maybe like attorneys and lawyers. Just kidding. Many probably became teachers.

   Over the years the game took on some changes and new forms, with a more well known version played being “Animal, Vegetable, Mineral.” Even today, classroom teachers may use this game as part of the study of science. For example...”was today's school lunch animal, vegetable or mineral?”

   Cell phones, computers and the hundreds of other electronic devices have changed the way we play, and in so doing, may be slowing changing the way we think. Today it is too easy to move off into the corner of a room, isolated from others around you and playing Candy Crush for hours. I know there are parts of the game that allow you to challenge friends to a game or two, seeing who can get the higher score. But for the most part there may be little actual verbal interaction with anyone else, except when mom tells you that dinner is ready..... and you have yet to finish your lunch.

   For some reason, after doing a bit of research, 20 seems to be the magical number of questions to be asked when seeking information, not just for 20 Questions, but for 'life' questions  too. For example...Interested in dating the new girl who just moved into town? There is a list of twenty questions to ask her in order to get to know her before you ask her out.

   Or perhaps you are looking for a new piece of furniture for your home. There is a list of twenty questions to ask the sales person before buying. And the most important question? Is there a lifetime guarantee that this will not fall apart?

   My favorite list..... twenty questions to ask your local candidate running for political office. And try to get those answers with just a simple 'yes' or 'no'.

   The game of 20 Questions may have done more than just keep us busy when the power went out back in the old days. It made us use our imagination. It gave us  time to spend with family or friends even if we did realize it. It sometimes made us laugh. But most important....it made us think, as silly as some of those questions may have seemed at times. 
   So, anyone up for a game of 20 Questions? And I'll tell you right up front, the object I am thinking about is 'bigger than a bread box.'


    (On these nice warm summer days, last one in the water is.....)

Turn left by the big oak tree and...

   For those of you not familiar with Maine, you can crisscross the state on numerous back country  roads, roads that seem to go no where. For sure, we have the major highways, at least running north and south. But to experience the true character of Maine one only needs to spend a bit of time touring places like T16 R14 or Square Lake (T16 R5) to get the real flavor of Maine. I'm not talking about the sweet taste of a freshly cook lobster or clams direct from the ocean. I am talking about what you do when you are lost and have no idea where in the world where you are or how to get home and need to ask for directions.

   Now before you all suggest that I type my location into my cell phone, I need to remind you that there are still many areas in the back woods of Maine void of cell service and besides, it only works if I remembered to take it off the dining room table and bring it along. And what is that new expression.....'out of cell... out of mind!'

   It started out as a beautiful ride on a cool Fall morning. The colorful foliage provided a fantastic contrast to the blue sky and puffy white clouds. A few left turns here and then a couple to the right and I was deep into the Maine woods. Is this a logging road? 
   As it got closer to lunch time, I decided it was time to head back, but which way was back.

   Here are a couple of things to remember. There are very few street or road signs in most of the Maine woods. Keeps the cost of the state budget down. There are very few houses and not much other traffic. And most important, regardless of which way you turn, everything looks the same...trees, trees and more trees.

   After driving for a few more miles in what seemed like circles, I was surprised to come upon a very small general store. The sign in the window said 'Wilson's General Store' for all you local shopping needs.

   Several men stood by the counter, drinking coffee and discussing the local politics and of course, the weather. The lady behind the counter was rearranging the boxes of shotgun shell and neatly folding blaze orange hunting vests. The vests appeared to be the 'one size fits all' model.

   I wanted to act 'cool' and not seem like someone from away so after pouring myself a cup of coffee and grabbing a Ring Ding off the shelf I casually said....”I spent a bit too much time taking in the beautiful scenery and I am running a bit late. Can you guys give me directions for the quickest way back to the interstate?” I think the word that gave it away was ' interstate.' They knew I was not a local.

   The first to reply simply responded by saying...”turn around and go back the way you came.” That was easier said than done and I confessed I had not really been paying attention.

   The second offered more detail. “Take a left out of the parking lot. Go about three miles to the big oak tree on the corner of the old Warren place. Take the next right. If you pass the dead deah (that's deer for those of you from away) carcass on the side of the road, you've go too far. Turn around and take the next left. Follow that road to the next fillin' station. Then.....

   At this point the lady behind the counter asked...”Which way ya headin' on the interstate, north or south? There's an easier way to get there 'pending on which way you're headed."

   “South'” was my response.

   “Figures,” was hers. “Could tell just by the brand new boots on your feet. L.L.Bean, right ?”

   For the next few minutes the three argued as to the best route to send me so I could get to where I was going.

   The final directions included a turn at the local sand shed, keeping to the right at the twin forks, staying to the left of the old log cabin and keeping an eye out for the horse barn surrounded by the white fence. “When you get there, you're getting close.

   “Need a box of shells?” she asked.

   “Nope. Not this trip. Maybe next time.” Like I could find my way back there!

      I “thanked” them for their help, paid for another Ring Ding and started out on the journey. Much to my surprise, within the hour or so I was back on the interstate and heading for home.

   With the advent of the 'garmin' and cell phones, provided you are within reach of a signal, the need to be able to ask and be given directions is quickly becoming a dying art, especially if the directions include a bit of the local flavor, whether it be a bit of the“down-east' or southern Aroostook county humor.

   And as I climbed into my car, I could hear the three of them laughing. “He probably has never held a shotgun and doesn't even know what a box of shells is used for!! And those boots.....brand spankin' new.Tag was still on um.”

A new life beginning at age 93...

   My dad was born in 1919 and my mother in 1920. My father passed away several years ago, living well past his anticipated life expectancy age according to all the charts and graphs. My mother will turn 94 on her birthday in September and she would still like to drive. But for the safety of the others on the road, as well as her own safety and mine too, that is not an option, much to her disappointment.

   While my father seemed to have had just about everything in his body either removed or replaced, due to the marvels of modern medicine, my mother has lived a life free of illness, sickness or injury. And as for medications, it has only been recently that she has joined he ranks of those supporting the drug industry. 
   But time in now beginning to catch up and it is getting difficult for her to understand the changes that are taking place. Often she will ask and comment that she has been 'so healthy' all of her life, “why is this happening now?”  Up to this point I would remind her that she is 93 years old and sometimes, as one gets older, things change, the body and the mind don't work the way they used to work. But I don't say that to her any more.
   Looking back, the life expectancy of the generation of those born in the 1920's was anticipated to be between 55 and 60 years of age. Of course, there were always going to be exceptions and with the rapid advancements in the medical field, many lived well past what might have been expected and those born in more recent years may live well into their 80's. But watching my mother grow older may provide some important lessons for future generations and maybe even for me too.

   I don't remember too much about my grandparents, only that after a short time into what was then considered retirement, they passed away. As  my parents watched their parents grow older, I think they made the decision that life was going to be a bit different for them.

   My parents were able to retire while still fairly young, the results of a successful  career in public education, an antique business and  careful planning on the part of my father. 
   I can remember the talks, (no, not that talk!) well out of earshot of my mother, “Now this is what I have done and this is what should happen.” He expected that she would live longer that he would and... that was the case. But he too, was  into his 90's when he passed away.

   With somewhat safe and secure long term investments and a retirement pension from which to draw, they were able to travel and stayed fairly active. And their favorite activity? The “early bird special” at most the local restaurants in Florida of course! It was always hard to explain to our kids why, when we were visiting Grandma and Grandpa, we were having dinner at 3:30 in the afternoon, especially if we had just finished lunch an hour before. 

   As the years passed and life became a bit more difficult for them to live independently, it was time to seek some help and they moved into what is currently call 'assisted living.' My father fought the move, but after threats and some pretty stern discussions, he finally agreed and once there, he found there was still a great deal they could do, bingo, sharing stories from the past with new friends and acquaintances, bingo again  and a bit of musical entertainment every now and then.

   After his passing, my mother relocated to an assisted living facility a bit closer, making visiting and travel somewhat easier. Brand new, nicely decorated with family mementos, three square meals a day (although she might disagree), and ice cream snacks every so often, it provided her with an opportunity to continue to age with grace.

   But currently at 93, her world is quickly changing and while it is obvious for us to see and understand the changes taking place, it is not easy for her and these changes are  beginning to take their  toll on her. 
   She has been in and out of the hospital several times in the last 8 months, along with a visit or two to rehab to help regain some of her physical strength she loses after the hospital stays. But with each stay, with each 'event'  as we call them, it steals her enthusiasm for life and robs bits and pieces of her memory. For someone with a life so long and healthy, as she describes herself.....“I don't understand why this is happening to me? It wasn't suppose to be like this.”

   Each day her frustrations grow and her patience for the simple everyday tasks of life becomes shorter. It is difficult for us to know what she may be thinking and what she is really able to comprehend, only that we understand that for her “it's a new and very different life at 93...” 

Connecting the dots...

    As a young child  I wanted to learn to draw, but my skills were not very good and my parents didn't appreciate me using the walls of my bedroom as a place to practice.  There were no magic markers back in the day, only crayons. But crayons still presented a challenge when it came time to remove the scribbling from the walls. I was quick to learn that scribbling was what paper was to be used for.
   To improve my artistic skills, I can remember coloring books with the endless pages of 'connecting the dots'. Start with number 1, move on to number 2, and eventually it would become some identifiable object or shape. While the process of  connecting the dots was a good way to learn to draw, it did present an additional problem. One needed to know how to count. But with age came that skill too and eventually I moved on to 'paint by numbers'.
   Today, connecting the dots has new meaning. As each day dawns, often we are  faced with the challenge of connecting the dots in the lives we live. There are so many things we want to do but so little time.  And many times something unexpected happens and we become overwhelmed. Where do I begin? How do I get started? Analysis paralysis!! There are times that 'life is just too busy'.  How do I get back in control?
   The new meaning behind  connecting dots  is that if we take  time  to look back,  eventually we will see a path for a future... a picture or plan that will offer insight and direction. But it does mean looking back before moving forward, sometimes a difficult thing to do.
  In a recent response to a question posed to a state legislator regarding  the budget gap at the Department of Health and Human Services, the legislator  began by saying that in order to solve many of the State's financial problems and issues, we  needed to “connect the dots.” I am not sure if he was  speaking as a  Republican or Democrat. Maybe his response was a bit too glib, but it made good press. Perhaps he owned 'connect the dot' books like I did as a child in order to use that descriptive of solving the budget issues, but I don't remember seeing any pictures about  budget shortfalls.
   Over the years as I have grown older and I hope a bit wiser I better understand the 'connecting the dots' message. In one of his commencement addresses  by the late Steve Jobs, founder of Apple, Jobs spoke about connecting the dots and how past events and diverse life experiences helped shape his future. “You can't connect the dots looking forward, you can only connect them by looking backwards. You have to trust that what you learn will somehow connect you to the future. You have to learn to trust in something, or in someone. You have to believe the dots will be connected  somewhere down the road.”
   As a child, connecting the dots in all of the books allowed me to learn how to make new shapes and designs and when I  finally learned to draw  without the dots or numbers I began to trust my abilities to create new shapes and new designs, ones that were bigger and better . Those early 'dots' provided the  confidence I needed to move forward.
   In life, the experiences one has, whether they be positive or negative, all serve a purpose. They provide each of us with our own collection of dots to be connected, dots to be looked back upon so that we can move forward..

                                   

It's Not Easy Being Green.....

   In my backyard I have two vernal ponds, nature made of course. A home for mosquitoes and other flying insects, they also are the home, this year, for almost a dozen frogs and it has turned out to be one of Lucky's favorite places to 'hang out' in the yard. Hoping to catch one of the little critters, he stands patiently, waiting for one to make its move back into the pond or pop his head up from beneath the surface of the water. As  Spring has transitioned to Summer, there seems to be a new and added respect by each, as they face off frog eye to dog eye and while Lucky would like to get really up close and personal, they are just a bit too quick for him. But that doesn't prevent him from continuing to try to get just a little bit closer. Always on guard and living in fear of the big black dog, "it must not be easy being green.”

   These are also the famous words in the title of a song that most of us, including my generation, may be familiar. Kermit the Frog of Muppet fame, hit the television screen in 1955 and over the years his wisdom and insight have offered suggestions and advice on living a happier life.

   Today, being 'green' is often associated with protecting the environment, but in his early life, Kermit struggled with his color and being who he was, something we all experience on occasion.

   I'll admit it. I am still a big Kermit fan, and to this day when I hear his squeaky little voice, it brings a smile to my face, even if the day is not going well and every day, according to Kermit, might not always a good day. In his unique way, Kermit is able to offer sound advice in order to get through the rough spots. Here are just a few of some of his suggestions...

                   ”Changes happen as time passes by. Soon enough we all grow up.”

                  “When green is all there is to be, it could make you wonder why, I am green and it'll do fine, its beautiful and it's what I want to be.”

                “With good friends you can't lose.”

                “Here's some simple advice: Always be yourself. Never take yourself too seriously...and beware of the advice from experts“

              Life's like a movie. Write your own ending.”

And maybe my favorite regardless of your age.....”Just because you haven't found your talent yet doesn't mean you don't have one!”

   It was the mid-1970's and we had just moved to Maine. I had accepted a position as assistant principal at an area high school, my first administrative experience. Like most assistant principal positions, I was in charge of student disciple: assigning detentions, suspending students for misbehavior and other related events, all of the things that make you popular with the students. 
   It was only about two weeks into the school year when I faced my first student suspension. I remember the student’s name and the reason for the suspension as if it were just yesterday. If I thought hard enough, I could probably remember the day of the week and the weather too.

   The student waited in my office as I called his mother to come pick him up and take him home. I calmly discussed the reasons for the suspension and the number of days he was to be out of school. On the outside, I tried to remain as cool as a cucumber, but on the inside, my stomach was doing cartwheels.

   As the mother left my office with her son, she continued to scream and yell at me and called me several names I have not heard since. As I finally sat back in my chair, she returned to the doorway of my office and said...”It's not easy being green, is it? She knew her son had been my first suspension! Those words have stuck with me forever.
   Aside from being a color, anytime we start something new we are all green at first, lacking the experience but always gaining confidence as we grow. The student's mom, despite her verbal rampage, had prepared me well. And when she stuck her head back into the office I knew everything would be OK.
                                        

"Hello little fellow, my name is Lucky. What's yours?